


Cissy/Narcissa

by PoeticallyIrritating



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticallyIrritating/pseuds/PoeticallyIrritating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix comes out of Azkaban laughing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cissy/Narcissa

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: agelast, any characters
> 
> Agelast - A person who never laughs.

Bellatrix comes out of Azkaban laughing.

Cissy’s different now, and it isn’t just the lines on her face. She meets Bella as a stranger. (“Bellatrix,” she says, coldly, and Bella’s grin feels manic on her lips.)

There are important meetings going on in Malfoy Manor and Bella attends all of them, reveling in her master’s presence, drinking it in—but she wants to rip, tear, curse—she leans hungrily toward the Dark Lord, teeth bared, and  _needs._

She’s locked up in this house and she hates it, scrapes at her own skin with her fingernails. She spends long hours with Cissy—Narcissa now; those days are over and she won’t respond to Cissy anymore. Bella says it anyway, mocking.

“They all think I’m crazy now,” says Bella, kicking her feet up on an expensive coffee table and bugging her eyes out at Narcissa. “Think it’s true?”

Narcissa’s mouth tightens. “It’s not my place to say.”

Bella cackles. Sticks out her tongue. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Narcissa only smiles, thinly, when Draco comes home for the Christmas holidays. But he is surly and he runs his hands through his hair anxiously and hardly meets the Dark Lord’s eyes. He is family but Bella wants to hurt him, a little, looking at the way Narcissa tenses up when he dismisses her.

At night she dreams of Cissy, eleven-year-old Cissy with shining blue eyes and a stately gray owl (and then the owl flashes its talons and there is blood everywhere and Bella and Cissy are standing in the middle of it. Bella wakes oddly satisfied; she can still almost taste the blood on her tongue.)

But when she’s awake all she has is Narcissa, the stately forty-year-old wife of a whiny second-rate Death Eater. (Draco is Bella’s blood, but Lucius makes her bite the inside of her cheek so hard she tastes metal.) Narcissa is tall, taller than Bella since she was seventeen, and looking at her is like looking at a statue. Sometimes she doesn’t even look when Bella speaks, she just stares straight ahead. When she answers she moves her lips as little as possible.

The night Bella kills her cousin she comes back gleeful, hands still shaking with excitement. Narcissa, stiff and impassive in the sitting room, turns on her.

“They have my  _husband,_  Bellatrix.”

“ _Cissy_ ,” she whines, “you never cared for him much anyway.”

“Your husband, too.”

“Rodolphus?” Bella spits. “He was fool enough to get caught; he deserves it.” She can’t stand it, the look on Narcissa’s face. “I killed the traitor, I  _murdered_ him, and the Potter boy was following me,  _screaming_.” She imitates his voice.  _“Sirius! Sirius!”_

Narcissa asks in a low whisper, “Draco wasn’t there, was he? He’s still safe at school?”

“No,” Bella snaps. “Mummy’s little boy is all safe.”

She gives up, disgusted. Her sister is gone.


End file.
